Training of the Jester
by JettatheJester
Summary: Jetta copes with her mother's death in some very unhealthy ways. The path she's on may lead her somewhere she never thought she'd go: into the underbelly of Gotham with the psychotic Joker as her guide.
1. Chapter 1

Looking around myself, I took quick tally of possible weapons. I may have decided to be deliberately irrational, but I wasn't going to be stupid about it. As I ventured through the dark streets of Gotham at midnight, I went over all the things that were driving me crazy.

Four years ago my mom died in a car accident. Sudden and traumatic. It might sound like a long time, but when someone so close to you ceases to exist, the pain is fresh every waking moment. You just try to learn to live with the gaping abyss in your soul. You do things to dull the ache and distract yourself, more often than not these things are unhealthy even when they're considered 'healthy' by normal standards.

Take me for example. I cut back on how much I was eating. I started cleaning house avidly and got a boyfriend. How was this bad? I was eating so little that I felt weak and lost weight rapidly. I was cleaning so vigorously that I wore myself ragged even on days when I worked. I was practically addicted to my boyfriend. If he didn't respond to a message I just knew it was because he hated me. I worried so much about our future and what my father thought of him that I would worry myself into physical sickness. He's my ex now. As of today. He was tired of my nagging.

All the internal struggle was wearing on me and seemed to show no signs of stopping. On top of that, I was losing my friends one by one. Perhaps it was something I was doing. Maybe I am such an awful person that I drive everyone away. Whatever the reason, here I was left virtually friendless. All I had left was my father whom I had promised my mom before she died to take care of.

Only one problem; my dad had started drinking. That was enough to concern me but since I heard him talking on the phone about a drug deal by accident last week, I have started to go a little kooky. My mom and dad used to be morally upstanding, happy, loving people who knew how to enjoy life. Since my mom's death, my father got consumed by bitterness. And there was nothing I knew how to do to stop it. Everything I had known had changed and I was left with nothing but the knowledge that I was still me, though even that was iffy on most days.

That's when I decided to start taking these little walks. I had always been a by-the-book goody-two-shoes, but all the constraints made it so hard for me to function. I started sneaking out late at night and walking down dark alleys. It wasn't that I had a death wish necessarily. I just wanted to feel alive for a moment, and nothing makes you feel more alive than lurking around at night with the possibility of being mugged, raped, or murdered.

This was my third night walking around like this, waiting for any kind of threat to pounce at any moment. As I said before, I was being deliberately irrational, but I wasn't going to be stupid about it. I had pepper spray and a pocket knife on me, and I was constantly aware of my surroundings in case I needed to use something else as a weapon, worst case scenario.

So far I had only been met with the same eerie noises one would expect to hear in the urban night: a couple shouting somewhere down the street, a lone dog barking at nothing, the teasing of the breeze on leaves, garbage bags, and wind chimes.

Then I heard something out of place. A shuffle of feet. It was only the sound of a few steps that matched my own pace so I couldn't be sure if it was just my imagination. I looked around cautiously, standing stock still, holding my breath so I could strain to hear, though my heart was throbbing in my ears.

My perusal of the dark corridor gave me no indication of an unwanted follower, so I continued on in the same cautious, fool-hardy manner as before. Though I walked for about thirty more minutes I heard no more footsteps before heading back into my house and crawling into bed to look through tumblr.

The following week's excursions through the night were filled with little hints of possible danger in the shadows. I could never be certain and often dismissed them, but the feeling of alarm and warning grew more intense each day.

On this particular night, as I picked my way down an alley that I was less familiar with, having wandered a little farther than usual, I distinctly heard a pile of garbage being kicked. Cans grated on the cement and I turned, my back stiff, to see what had caused the sound. There among the smudges of dark and darker outlines I saw the figure of a man. As he saw me turn to look at him, he muttered a curse and straightened, walking menacingly toward me.

My throat constricted and adrenaline kicked in. My legs quickly got the message and I darted down the alley. I thought that the street I was looking for was towards my left, so I began snaking down that way, hopping over the occasional short chain length fence and skirting trash cans.

I quickly ran out of stamina, my poor diet and sleep pattern proving to be a bad mix with this dangerous game I played every night. Just as I began to hear familiar neighborhood noises, I came to a dead end, the brick walls around me offering no nook or cranny to conceal myself in and I could hear my pursuer gaining ground on me. He would be here before long.

I turned to face the mouth of the alley I was trapped in, flicking my knife out and holding my pepper spray at the ready. The jogging footsteps were getting nearer, so loud he was just around the corner now. I could hear his panting breath.

Suddenly, a growl ripped through the tense quiet followed by a crash. The jogging feet had stopped in their tracks and the sounds of a struggle replaced them. There was a muttering voice followed by a terrified yell. "Fuck! Not you!"

A spine tingling, manic laugh echoed through the darkness followed by more crazed mutterings.

"Listen, I'll leave her alone, man. I'm sorry! I'll stick to another side of town-"

"Too laaaate." A harsh sing-song whisper made its way to my ears.

"No! No!" A gut wrenching yell of agony split the air and was abruptly cut off.

Giggles faded and gave way to silence once more. I stood frozen in place, scared if I moved an inch that I would be finished. At last I rationalized that I had to leave in order to have any hope of getting back home and if I stayed here I was more certain to die.

I made my way timidly out of the alleyway, the weak, orange porch light on an apartment leading me on. As I reached the entrance, I looked to the right to seek out any possible threat. Instead I was met by the view of sneakered feet sticking out from behind a pile of garbage. Before going to investigate I checked the left as well, looking all around before emerging into the intersection of alleys.

I felt a knot forming in my throat and I tried to swallow it as I edged closer to the unconscious body. I knew he was dead but I tried to rationalize that he wasn't. But there was no mistaking the cold emptiness that surrounded the corpse. There was no life here. This was a shell.

As I finally got near enough that the trash revealed the entire body, I gasped and felt acid rise up in my throat. Heaving again, and again, I threw up all the contents of my stomach.

I wiped my mouth with the back of my shaking hand and blinked away the slight dew of tears on my lashes. Trembling, I shuffled forward through the trash and took a closer look at the body. The man was skeevy looking as you would expect a man who preys on young women. His long brown hair was greasy and his beard an unkempt mess. But that was only if you ignored the more grotesque parts of his current appearance. The man's eyes were wide with terror. Apparently his murderer wanted to play with him before he died. Along with the oozing gash in his neck, the man had deep lacerations that forced a smile on his dead, horrified face.

Looking even more closely, I saw pinned to the man's shirt, a joker card that had written in red marker, "Does your mother know that you're out?"

Taking several stumbling steps backward, I looked around again before saying miserably into the darkness, "My mother's dead." I wasn't sure why I said it. Maybe just in case I was about to die I wanted someone else to know just how much her death haunted me.

Feeling numb and dizzy with fright, I forced my feet quickly home, somehow finding my way without thinking too hard about it. Once I climbed back into my window and locked it, tore my clothes off and took a steaming hot shower. Halfway through scrubbing my body, I started to gag, the heat making me feel smothered.

I stumbled out of the tub and puked in the toilet, sending my body into another bout of shivers. My tense muscles causing my neck to spasm. Taking one of my prescription muscle relaxers, I got back into the shower. By the time I was done, my limbs felt like jelly and the start of a migraine had receded.

As I curled up into bed, images of the dead man flashed into my mind. It wasn't that I felt remorse over his death. I knew what sort of person he was and he most likely deserved his fate. It was the sight of extinguished life that disturbed me, and the thought that a person more cruel than the one who died tonight was watching me. I knew who it was. It was the Joker. Others may have copied his way of making his victims smile, but no one else used those cards. He had escaped from Arkham nearly three months ago though little else had been mentioned about him lately. I could only assume he had been laying low for the time being. The Gotham police would find the body in the morning. Why did he sacrifice his whereabouts for my safety? Maybe it was something he was planning on doing in the first place. Just kill someone to let people know he was still there.

Sleep didn't come easily as I puzzled over his motives and as I weaved in and out of consciousness, manic laughter kept me tossing and turning.


	2. Chapter 2

It wasn't the brightest idea, to be sure. Just to spite my rationality, I went ahead and took my nocturnal walk the night after finding the corpse. The police had found the man, of course, and seemed extremely interested in the card that was meant for me. Of course I wasn't stupid enough to touch anything so they had no idea what on earth the message meant or why the man had been killed and I had no intention of telling them.

Just to avoid any unnecessary complications, I ventured in the opposite direction than the one I had taken the previous night, making sure to keep out of sight of any police cruisers. It wasn't long until I heard footsteps once more. This time I felt a little more cocky. Perhaps because I had escaped the last man and I knew I had a murderous nutjob on my side. Instead of running I turned and got my knife ready. "Who's there?" I asked. Though my emotions were jumping everywhere, my voice remained cold and calm in a way that alarmed me.

"Well, aren't you a feisty bitch." A voice replied, a silhouette of a man coming closer. "Think you can strut along the street and not be treated like the slut you are? Not tonight."

I gritted my teeth, instantly regretting my idiotic behavior. This time, if I got out alive, I was going to stop this particular brand of rash adventure. "Go screw yourself." I spat, fear and anger at myself fueling my words.

"No, I think I'd rather just screw you." The man growled as he got within a foot of me.

I quickly lifted my knife and stepped back several steps. "Leave now, or you'll regret it."

The man just laughed and continued towards me as I backed away. "Or you'll sick the Joker on me like you did to my friend Raife? You know you were just at the right place at the right time. And now you're alone with a man that you have thoroughly pissed off."

My breath quickened. As the man's hand shot up to grab my throat, I slashed his wrist which cause him to curse angrily. I took the opportunity to start running, but the man recovered quickly and grabbed me by the back of my shirt, yanking me towards him. He bit my neck hard and I screamed before kicking him in the shin. Again the man got over his pain quickly and grasped my hair as I tried to escape him. He threw me against a brick wall, the impact causing me to hit my head so hard that I nearly blacked out.

His breathing sped up as I felt him fumble with his zipper with one hand, the other pinning my knife hand to the wall. "Fuck you, you little cunt." He grunted as he pulled his dick out and began unfastening my pants.

"You know…" Ground out a new, more unstable voice directly behind my captor. "I'm pretty sure you should just hold hands on your first date. Otherwise you'll end up dealing with a really….angry… fatherrrr."

I could tell by the way the man's back stiffened that he now had some sort of weapon trained on his spine.

"Now." The new voice said. "Turn around real slow, and put your hands behind your head."

The man turned slowly and gulped in fear, "The Joker…" though he sobered, invigorated by the memory of his dead friend. "Go to hell you son of a bitch." He spat in the Joker's face and gave him a solid punch in the mouth.

The Joker cracked up. "That's it? Come on, I know you can do better."

Unnerved, the man hesitated before pulling his fist back and dealing a hard blow to Joker's jaw. The Joker groaned, first in pain but then in pleasure. "Ah, yes. That's exactly what I'm talking about."

Before the man had time to react, the Joker sprang forward and grabbed him by the head, twisting sharply to the right until a loud, unnatural snap of muscle, cartilage, and bone could be heard.

I whimpered and pressed against the wall as the Joker slowly turned to face me. "Evening, misssss." He hissed mockingly, offering me a gloved hand. "Shall I walk you home?"

Without a second thought I ran. But fleeing did no good because the Joker soon caught up with me and clasped me tight against him from behind. The cold blade of a knife pressed against my already stinging neck from where the other man had bit me.

"Now is that any way to behave after I've been so nice to you?" He asked, taking on a hurt voice.

Taking a deep breath for courage, I lifted up the arm that was still clinging to my knife and sliced the Joker's knife arm. To my horror, he didn't even slack his grip. He merely growled and grabbed the knife away from me, put it in his pocket, and returned his free hand to my waist.

"I see you like knives. That's something we have in common. I can really see this relationship going places." He said this as he began walking me back home. "Sorry about your mom by the way. I lost my own mommy dearest when I was young too."

"Why have you been following me?" I asked breathlessly, unable to think about anything else at this point.

"Well," He said at my ear, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. "When a pretty little girl like you starts wandering around, asking for trouble, it attracts all kiiinds of _unwanted_ attention-nah!" He pronounced the n harshly, the sudden crescendo in tone causing me to flinch. "So, it's up to gentle-men like _me_ to guard the lady fair."

I gasped as he jarred me, his expressive movements causing his knife to rake my injured skin while he spoke. "T-thank you." I stuttered, not sure whether I was being sarcastic, honest, or a mix of both.

He stopped suddenly and smelled my hair briefly. "My pleasurrrre." He purred. "Do you think we can walk the rest of the way holding hands? It's not that I don't enjoy holding you like this, but it's slow going and I have places I need to be."

"Okay." I whispered. "We can hold hands." Since I had no weapon, really what choice did I have? And it had to be better than having a blade to my skin.

Slowly, he released me and laced my right arm around his left so that we were walking like some old fashioned couple down the street. As we continued along I began to wonder how he knew where to go to my house. Had he been watching me that closely? To this point I had only thought that he just came across my situations by accident. Now it seemed that he must have been following me.

The Joker seemed to dislike any sort of quiet for any amount of time and, since we weren't talking, he was humming a tune to our steps occasionally giggling to himself.

When we finally reached my block, he stopped in the edge of the shadows and turned me towards him. "You know, usually a guy gets a kiss for rescuing the damsel in distress."

"My dad's probably worried. I better hurry. He might see you here." I rattled off excuses as they came to me, panic beginning to choke me.

"Look at me." The Joker demanded tensely, grabbing my face in his vice-like grip. I kept my eyes from meeting his, terrified of looking straight at him. "LOOK AT ME!" He burst out.

My eyes snapped to meet his. As I took in his scars, makeup, and maddened eyes, he grinned. The sudden switch of emotions sent shivers down my spine. There was no predictability to anything he did. It was here I discovered that nothing was in my control. I could live or die, be frightened or secure, all at the whim of the Joker. All the strength I thought I got by skulking around at night, untouched, was all an illusion. The entire time it was the Joker who had the power and I was unable to do anything to change the course of my life.

Unaware of my revelation, the Joker observed the fear in my features. "Is it the scars?" The Joker asked in fake concern. "They make a lot of people _uneasy_. Maybe if I told you where I got them?" He nodded as though asking if I agreed.

I nodded back hesitantly. If he wanted to do it, I was at his mercy.

"Ya see, my mother died when I was young, like yours. I was always depressed and never smiled. My dad came home every night drunk, and he hated to see my sad face. One day he went off a little _crazier _than usual. He took a kitchen knife and asked me 'WHY SO SERIOUS-AH!' He puts the blade in my mouth…" The Joker illustrated by placing the steel against the corner of my mouth, tugging on the skin with it. "'Let's put a smiiiiile on that _face_!" With a sudden jerk he sliced from mouth to cheek bone.

He quickly covered my mouth with his hand as I screamed and pulled me against him, my back to his chest once more, his knife against my hip.

My muffled screams gave way to sobs and the Joker leaned in to whisper, his lips grazing my ear. "Not a word of this, Jetta, or I _will_ kill you and your father. Now be a good girl and get into bed. I'll be seeing you around, sweet cheeks." He gave my injured cheek a faux-affectionate slap which caused me to whimper and grit my teeth from pain.

He shoved my own knife into my pants pocket and released me. As I jogged on jelly legs towards my window, I heard his laugh recede into the night.

I took a few moments to gather my scattered wits before sneaking back into my room. First thing, I skittered into my bathroom to assess the damage done to me. There was a circle shaped bruise already beginning to form on my neck and the cut on my cheek seemed to be more shallow than I had first thought. That didn't mean that it felt alright though. The right corner of my mouth was split a little farther than usual but from what I could tell I wouldn't need stitches.

I cleaned the wounds with soap and water before sanitizing them with alcohol and using gauze and tape to bandage them.


	3. Chapter 3

The following morning my dad freaked out when he saw my face. "What happened?! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine." I forced myself to smile even though it hurt. "I just slipped and fell in the shower while shaving. I hit my neck on the water handle and I accidentally cut my cheek with my razor." It had taken a while to fabricate that story and luckily he believed it.

"Do you need to go to a hospital?" He asked, searching my eyes in concern.

I shook my head. "No, I'll be alright. It doesn't even hurt now."

Buying it, I drove him to work just like I did every morning. Since I was off work today I was left home alone, which suited me just fine. Once I had bought groceries, the whole house was spotless again, and laundry was put on it was about two in the afternoon. Still an hour until I had to pick my dad up from work. I decided to take a thirty minute nap.

I wasn't sure what exactly woke me. I checked my phone and saw that I had only slept for about fifteen minutes. As I settled back down into my bed to try to get a couple of more winks, I heard faint music start to play.

A thump from the living room had my hair standing on end. Silently, I got out of bed and took my knife off my dresser. Ready for anything, I stalked my way down the hall. As I neared the living room, the music became clearer and I identified it as the opening song to Cinderella. The retro music sounded eerie as it pervaded the tense quiet overtaking the rest of the house.

There was no sign of life in the living room, but the window was open. Hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruder, I peeked out of the window only to find the street empty. I closed the window, and turned back around only to be scared witless.

There, sitting on my couch, casual as could be, was the Joker. His purple trench coat was draped nonchalantly on the back of the couch. "I love this movie." He commented in good humor. "Don't you?"

"What are you doing here?" I returned, pointing my knife at him threateningly.

The Joker rolled his eyes, using his head to mimic the motion, smacking his plump lips. "Has anyone ever told you how rude you are?"

I swallowed, forcing myself to lower the knife. "I'm… sorry." I apologized, not sure why I should feel bad about threatening a murderer in my own home. "I just… you're not here to kill me?"

The Joker looked up at me through his lashes, one eyebrow raised in a droll manner. He licked his lips slowly before pursing them. "Jetta, if I were here to kill you, you'd be dead. I was watching you sleep before I came in here."

I shuddered at the thought of the Joker standing over me at my most vulnerable. Totally unconscious. Helpless to him, once again, in the very place where I took my safety for granted.

"Why don't you come sit over here and we can have a little, ah… heart to heart." He bounced one leg and spread his arms out over the arm of the couch and the backboard. "Oh, and I'll be taking that." He leaned forward suddenly, motioning for my knife with one hand.

Instead of trying to slice his hand or anything, beyond any comprehension of my own, I handed him the knife. He quickly pocketed it just like he had done the night before and grabbed my outstretched arm with his free hand, tugging me into his lap. He turned me to the side so that he could look at me while we were talking, the side with my injuries facing him.

"Let's see how those little scratches are doin', huh?" The Joker giggled, peeling the bandages off roughly. I squirmed and flinched as he exposed more lacerated skin and he responded by shushing me in a side-tracked half-soothing tone. I whimpered as he grabbed my face, turning it this way and that.

"Uh-huh. Looks like you'll heal up just right, sweet cheeks." He grinned, patting the injured side of my face as he had the night before. The seams in the leather of his gloves sent jolts of pain along my scratch.

He then turned his attention to the movie he had put on, seemingly totally relaxed with me on his lap. As though I were some sort of pet. He even stroked my back from time to time, absentmindedly.

Suddenly he broke the silence. "You don't seem to be watching the movie." He looked up at me accusingly and I trembled even more violently than I already had been. "I would think you'd feel a sort oooof…. connection with this par-TIC-u-lar heroinnnne."

I had to gulp in order to speak. "I… No, I-I-I do. I'm just… surprised by all the attention you're giving me." I tried to word what I was thinking in a way that wouldn't set him off. I'd rather he not complete the smile he started on my face. People were already going to stare.

The Joker eyed me speculatively, giving me a double take. "You're a nosy little girl aren't you?"

I looked back at him anxiously. There really wasn't anything I could add at this point without making it worse. I simply had to let the Joker decide what he thought of me. Again my life was in his hands. I was no more in control of anything than a leaf has control of the direction it blows.

"Well," He said, as though making his mind up about something. "For now it's for me to know and you to find out. But that doesn't mean I can't be nosy about you."

"I don't really want to talk about myself. To you or anyone." I muttered, looking at the movie. Cinderella was lecturing Bruno about learning to like cats. I found it ironic considering the situation. _Learn to like maniacs._ I thought to myself. A sting on my face froze any thoughts I was having and I turned to look at the Joker as he moved me to do with his knife.

"You don't want me to be bored, do you?" He asked laughingly. "I can find other ways you can entertain me."

He left the threat dangling, knowing I could see in my mind's eye the sort of fun he could possibly have with me. As I looked down at my hands in resignation, the Joker lowered his knife. "What made you decide to walk around at night?" He asked. It was probably the most human he had ever sounded. The look in his eyes was calculating and intent, though. He had a predatory expression on his face that frightened me.

Looking back at my hands I answered. "Since my mom died nothing has been the same. My dad drinks, and is probably involved in something he shouldn't be. I…" I blushed and cleared my throat before continuing reluctantly. "Walking alone I almost dared something worse to happen. I don't know if I wanted to die or if I just liked the thrill of it. I just wanted to know that I could control something. But it turns out I can't even control my own death."

"Why not suicide?" The Joker asked almost frantically.

The subject seemed to get him excited and I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing, but the tone of his voice matched the feelings that the things we were talking about instilled in me. "I'm scared. Too scared of death to die. But too afraid of life to live. Too many possibilities come with both. Everything's so uncertain…"

"Chaos." The Joker whispered, his warm breath on my ear and deep timbre of his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I nodded wordlessly. Unable to speak past the bitterness in my mouth.

The Joker's tongue lashed out before he smacked his lips. "I'm an agent of chaoooosss." He breathed. "Do you know the secret about chaos?"

"It's terrifying." I finished for him, looking into his surprised face.

"Have you been talking with Harvey Dent?" He chuckled, taking my chin in his hand, looking at the injured side of my face, and then the normal side, his lips twisted in amusement. I looked at him in bewilderment when he finally let my chin go. "Speaking of resemblance." He switched the topic suddenly. "You look an awful lot like your mom."

"Yeah. My dad's always telling me I look just like her." I replied, still thinking about his comparison between me and Harvey Dent. What could he have meant?

The Joker's jaw got tense suddenly. "He doesn't… take advantage of that little _fun facT_ does he?"

"What you mean, like…?" I grasped for what he was accusing my dad of.

The Joker looked up at me, his eyes burning. He squirmed his hips subtly under me and I instantly felt that bolt of lust jar my senses.

"No!" I gasped out, already panting. My heart was thundering in my chest and tears gathered in my eyes. Why had I been so easily turned on by an unhygienic psychopath who was currently threatening me? Especially since he was attributing something so horrible to my father. "He may be different now but he wouldn't ever do something like that!"

The Joker shrugged nonchalantly. "My father did horrible things to me."

I didn't know which disturbed me more; the fact that he was unaffected by his sexual act just moments before even though he seemed so lustfully intent, or that he could ask a question like that out of mere curiosity without any awkwardness. He would be so keen on a particular emotion in one instant, and in the next, drop it like nothing had ever happened. I wasn't sure how much longer I could keep up with it. The emotional upheaval was making me feel sick to my stomach.

After a moment's silence, which was slightly improved by Cinderella singing the nightingale song, the Joker glanced at the clock on the wall. "Looks like it's time to pick up your father like a good little servant girl."

I jumped slightly at that. Exactly how closely had he been watching me… and my dad?

"But before you go…" He pulled me into his chest and traced my cut with a gloved finger. "You still owe me that kiss."

I whimpered from the pain and gasped as he pinched my cheek roughly, opening part of the scab that had formed. Knowing he might be more violent this time if I didn't do as he said, I licked my lips before placing a gentle kiss on his mouth.

As I began to pull away, the Joker's hand clamped down on my head, forcing me to stay lip locked with him. He brushed his surprisingly soft lips over mine before crushing the hair at the nape of my neck in his fist, snarling.

I opened my mouth to cry out in pain and the Joker, in turn, bit my lip before slipping his tongue in my mouth. I made a feeble attempt at escaping him, but after a few moments I found myself lost between pain and pleasure. He was rough and skillful, using sensitive areas to hurt me badly before he soothed them with his eager, passionate kisses.

The corner of my lips began to crack and blood streamed steadily into my mouth. The Joker tasted it and tightened his grip on me, his fingers digging into my flesh. He sucked on my blood-streaked tongue before letting me go suddenly.

Dizzy with passion, I tried to kiss him again. A knife at my throat stopped my attempt and I registered the Joker's labored breathing. "Later, doll face." He promised huskily, stroking my face roughly with his thumb. "I have plans to finish up. I'll see you tonight."

With that he picked me up with him as he got up and dropped me on the couch unceremoniously before climbing out of the kitchen window which opened into the alley so that he wouldn't be seen, a flash of purple from his trench coat following in his wake.

As soon as he had dropped me, I felt a wave of guilt, horror, and hurt come over me. I ran into the bathroom, barely making it in time to puke. I couldn't believe that the man who had almost single-handedly brought down GothamCity, and killed so many innocent people, was making out with me….and I enjoyed it. I tried to make excuses to myself but there was no disguising the fact that I had wanted to finish what he had started with that kiss. I was even more disgusted to realize that I felt alone and abandoned when he left. I was actually anxious to see him again tonight.

After rinsing out my mouth, brushing my teeth, and medicating the cut on my cheek, I left to pick up my father, turning Cinderella off in the midst of her crying as she realized everything was hopeless, the tattered remains of her lovely dress hanging on her limply.


	4. Chapter 4

I fell asleep rather easily that night. I had decided not to do my tour around the neighborhood. I was too exhausted to go through any more trauma for now and I was indecisive about seeing the Joker again.

I was in the midst of a dream of the Joker stroking my hair and tracing his knife over my body, nicking me here and there. I moaned softly before I suddenly felt a hand clap over my mouth and I was drug from my bed towards my desk. As my assailant hauled me up, my back scraping on the chair, to sit me on the desk, I saw that it was the Joker.

"Hello, doll face. Told you I'd come back tonight. Why didn't you wait up for me, honey?" He muttered, his voice hurt in a mocking way.

I tried to yell, but his hand muffled the sounds. "No, no, I don't want to hear your excuses. Let's go for a little walk instead."

With that he tossed me out of the window into a pile of garbage in the alley. As I attempted to gather my senses, still half-asleep and having my head jarred, Joker tumbled after me, laughing quietly. He brought me to my feet bodily, slapping his hand back over my mouth. "If you scream I'll turn that little smirk on your cheek into a smile, and believe me it _won't_. _be_. _pleasanT_."

I nodded silently. The Joker released me and I stumbled before regaining my footing only to lose balance when he thrust a worn duffle bag into my chest. I grabbed the bag out of reflex and stepped in something slimy.

Totally grossed out, I wiped my foot on the plastic bags until the Joker spoke up impatiently. "We're gonna be late for our date if you don't stop dragging your feet." He said in a menacing sing-song voice. "Pick out something pretty for our big night."

The Joker motioned at the bag I was holding and I put it down before digging into it curiously. Inside was a pair of purple and green striped leggings, black combat boots, purple booty shorts, and a green bustier with purple satin stripes and lace edging.

I didn't allow myself to think about what I was doing. Waiting would only make him angry. I started to climb back into my room to change, but was stopped by the Joker who pulled me down by the hem of my pajama top. "'Fraid not sweet cheeks. Can't chance you playing any tricks."

Again I didn't allow myself to think about it too much. I simply obeyed. I quickly threw my pants off and tugged the leggings on, hoping my unwanted observer wasn't getting too much of an eyeful as he obviously wasn't going to turn away. Next I slid on the booty shorts and combat boots. Turning around, I slowly removed my shirt, loathing this part most. My braless breasts felt so exposed in the night air and I quickly pressed the opened bustier to my front. The back had clasps much to my displeasure and I looked over my shoulder to ask the Joker to help. It wasn't necessary for me to prompt him, however, because he had already snuck up behind me, his hands raised to fasten the fabric.

I turned back around sharply, trying to ignore the tingles of warmth that were left by his deft fingers. He let his hand linger at my lower back as he finished and I heard him inhale sharply before retreating several steps.

I let out a breath that I hadn't realized I had been holding and adjusted myself gracefully before facing the Joker in my new regalia.

"Now you just need one last little touch…" He came forward, taking a container out of his pocket. Dipping his fingertips inside, he smudged the white makeup that coated them onto my face. He scrubbed it on haphazardly, much like he most likely did with his own paint. When my entire face was covered, he caked on black paint around my eyes, not even giving me notice that I should close them. As a result my left eye stung sharply, tears gathering up to wash out the residual paint. Next came the splash of red. The Joker traced along my scab which I had not bothered to re-bandage after he had first torn off the gauze, making jagged motions, seeming overzealous with his task. Lastly, he rubbed the ruby red paint onto my lips. This he did slowly, deliberately. The set of his features became sensual and he licked his bottom lip slowly, following the movement that his fingers made on my own lips.

As if he couldn't stop himself, he lurched towards me and licked my lips before pulling back. It was so fast it almost didn't register. If it weren't for the cooling saliva I felt on my mouth I would have thought it was my imagination.

"You look good enough to eat." He complimented, his voice lowered several octaves. He brushed his greasy hair aside before offering me his arm. I took it, feeling repulsed by the butterflies in my stomach. Something was clearly wrong with me.

"Where are we going?" I asked tentatively after walking a ways, hoping he wouldn't get angry. I just couldn't stand the apprehension any more.

The Joker giggled, much to my relief. "Wouldn't be much of a surprise if I _told_ you."

Disappointed, I looked around as we walked, hoping to have some sort of hint as to our destination. As we came to a wide street which I knew to be North 50th, Joker angled us towards a black van that had paint chipped all over it as though it had been painted over several times but poorly so.

Abandoning his previous, almost gentlemanly demeanor, the Joker grabbed my wrist before wrenching open the door to the back seat of the van. He yanked me into his chest before picking me up and thrusting me into the seat. He took a quick scan of the road before climbing in after me.

After slamming the sliding door shut, he bashed the back of the drivers seat with his palm several times. "Come on, we're burnin' moonlight and the devil can't be late to his own dance."

With muttered words of compliance, the Joker's henchman plunged the car into riotous motion, pitching the top-heavy vehicle from lane to lane, weaving through the nightly Gotham traffic at a breakneck speed.

The Joker licked his lips eagerly as he dug around in yet another bag. This one contained weapons. I watched in awe as he tugged out knife after knife, examining it, testing it by a prick of his finger, and putting it in some pocket or other of his suit. The shuffle of other passengers moved my attention from the Joker to our fellow occupants. There were a handful of men, all in clown masks, holding guns of various shapes and sizes. They talked amongst themselves, cracking crude jokes and reminiscing about past adventures. From what I could gather, one had worked for the mobster Chechen, and another had been one of Bane's men. I wasn't sure why they decided the Joker over other possible employers, but they seemed thrilled enough where they were. In fact, the whole van was abuzz with static apprehension; the clatter of guns being shifted in hands, feet scraping the metal floor, excited chatter, and expressive gestures. I could feel tension build up in my chest, something that was akin to a bubble of laughter. Not the laughter of joy, but of sheer mischief. I could feel a manic growl of crazed hilarity begin to sneak its way into my lungs. Angry, sadistic laughter that reveled in the fact that chaos was rampant. Everything went to hell eventually. There was nothing I could do to stop what was going on in my life or anyone else's so I might as well have a front row seat, throw some popcorn, and cackle as it all transpired.

Just as I was about to go completely off my rocker and burst into fits of uncontained mirth, I heard a henchman that I had picked up as named Seb mention me as he spoke to the Joker. "So what's she doing here anyway, boss? Won't she be in the way?"

Joker pulled me into his lap and squeezed my face between his thumb and four fingers, making me look at Seb. "She's here to look pretty." He explained, his voice harsh. He patted my cheek soundly before pushing me off his lap again.

Licking his lips, the Joker leaned forward and pulled a pistol out of his coat pocket. He pulled out the current magazine and, once finding it empty, threw it in no particular direction before sliding and clicking a new magazine into place and pocketing it once more. "The day I explain the things I do to my men is the day they can be right about calling me crazy." He muttered under his heavy breath. Grinding his teeth, the Joker kicked the seat in front of him violently, as though remembering something he didn't like. He then wrapped a well muscled arm around my shoulder, forcing me to lay my head on his chest. He absentmindedly ruffled my hair roughly. As I lay there, I wondered why I really was there and how I could possibly be enjoying the unexpected trip I was taking with one of Gotham's most wanted criminals. Maybe I was just mistaking the adrenaline rush of being taken in the dead of night on a speeding car ride through town for a thrill instead of a threat.

"Here it is." The driver informed the Joker in an edgy tone.


	5. Chapter 5

The Joker's lips peeled back in a snarl and he shifted under me. "Let's go." He growled tensely. He grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and pulled me off of him and casually exited the van, scuffing his feet and looking about himself as the rest of his men scrambled giddily out of the vehicle.

I was shoved from behind by Seb who was eager to get out. Clumsily I scurried out and stumbled toward the Joker who was motioning for me, opening and closing his hand impatiently. As I reached his side, he grabbed my wrist, making me wrap my arm around his waist before draping his own arm across my shoulders. Digging in his pocket, he produced my pocket knife which was presently folded into harmlessness.

"Hold on to your ticket, sweet cheeks." He said with sickly sweetness. Irreverently, he tucked the knife into my bustier, touching a little more breast than was necessary for the action.

When the weapon was tucked safely away, the Joker followed two of his men into the dilapidated building we had parked next to. Four more men took up the rear. Upon entering we found ourselves on a metal balcony that had stairs leading down to a crowded dance floor. Strobe lights had me blinking from their intensity. Next thing I knew a burly man had stepped forward with a syringe and injected the Joker who had offered his wrist obligingly. He looked at me and smacked his lips with a bored expression. "You're next, _baby cakes_." I could barely make out his words above the deep thrum of trance music.

The burly man wiped the syringe on a cloth that smelled of alcohol, refilled it with some clear liquid, and injected me. I winced and heat spread through me as I panicked. What sort of concoction did he just shoot me up with? The man moved on to repeat the procedure with the rest of the men and the Joker led me down the stairs. Each step I took seemed to rattle the entire room and I grew dizzy.

I struggled to keep my balance while the Joker walked on as if unaffected, though I sensed him grow more tense as his grip on me tightened. Or perhaps it was because I was becoming such a hindrance to his stride. Everything continued to spin. I caught glimpses of people bumping and grinding, and their forms would shift into monsters. At times I thought I saw them eat each other from the corner of my eye, but when I looked at them straight on they would be kissing or sharing a drink.

I could feel the heat around me build and bodies pressed around us. I imagined a wall of flesh forming a thrumming enclosure, like a womb. Things began to spin faster and flashes of white were interrupted by fuzzy blue blurs. I slumped onto the Joker's shoulder and he tucked me against his chest, laying my head back in the crook of his arm so that I was looking straight up. It looked like stars blinking wildly and I felt myself tremble. Stars shouldn't be that close. Maybe they would fall and kill us. I twitched violently and the Joker pinched my face in his iron grip, tilting my head at an angle so I would look him in the face.

His mouth looked like it was oozing blood and he seemed to have no eyes. There were only smudged black voids where his sockets were. As his mouth moved, I saw blood leak into his mouth and spray out at me. I flinched and the Joker slapped the side of my face with the cut.

The cut. The pain of the probably now infected area acted as an anchor and it made me focus on the Joker's words. "-rag doll. You _can't_ lie down on the job, Jetta. Do you want me to tell your _dad_ how bad you did the first day of work? Hm?"

He was threatening all I had left of my family. I had to pull myself together. With a surge of resolve, I tugged myself away from Joker slightly and slapped my injured cheek several times until I felt awake enough.

The room had stopped swaying, though the disturbing images of the other people didn't diminish. Still, I was thankful for what I had. Straightening my attire and posture, I returned to the Joker's side, putting my arm around his waist as he replaced his at my shoulder. "Wilt on me again and I'll drop you like a wall flower." The Joker spat.

I nodded and forced myself to think clearly. I desperately needed some water to calm my churning stomach, but it would have to wait, and I wasn't about to hurl and ruin whatever it was the Joker was planning on doing.

After making it half-way through the writhing dance floor, I saw yet another stairway leading to a dining area that overlooked the bar and dancers. Soon enough we were traipsing up those very stairs. At the top, sitting at the table closest to the railing, was none other than the Scarecrow himself.

To my eyes, his mask was dripping with grasshoppers that swarmed about the table. I couldn't stand grasshoppers. Their itchy little legs and fat brown bodies made me shutter. I just had to remind myself that it wasn't real. I came to the conclusion that they must have administered a drug that induced fearful delusions. It must have been the same agent the Scarecrow had tried to infect Gotham with in order for it to tear itself apart. This must have been a more mild dose, though because it seemed only to put everyone on edge.

"Having a frightful time, Joker?" The Scarecrow chuckled.

The Joker grinned fiercely, sitting in the chair across from the Scarecrow and pulling me down to sit on his knee. "I handle my own funny business, Scarecrow. Mostly because my jokes are better. But yes, you could say that I'm having a _frightful time._"

The Scarecrow nodded in agreeance. "You're right. People come to me for screams, not laughs. Take this club for example. I don't own it, but when I come here the actual owners allow me to extend my influence of fear to the rest of their clients. Anyone who enters here is required to have that little shot at the door. Their busiest nights are the ones in which I decide to grace them with my presence. So tell me, Joker, who exactly do you want to scream?"

Joker leaned in, his every muscle in a knot as though whatever he was about to say possessed him. "We've both been dealt an… unexpected card. The Batman."

Scarecrow tilted his head in interest. "A card which you seem unwilling to burn."

The Joker squinted and his mouth twitched into a wry smile. "He's too much fun to kill. But to terrify him? Make a laughing stock of him? Take his city from him?" The joker opened his arms wide and gave a suggestive frown, his eyebrows lifted.

"Bane couldn't break him." Scarecrow pointed out.

Joker laughed wildly, causing me to bounce on his knee. He wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me farther up his leg as he rested an elbow on the table. "Bane was a puppet. _We_ can be something much worse. What two stronger emotions are there than funny and fear? Hm? What gets under the Bat's skin?"

As the Joker licked his lips habitually, the Scarecrow leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. The Joker maintained his tense, crouching position as Scarecrow mulled it over.

At last, the Scarecrow surged forward and placed his forearms on the table. "What are you proposing we do?"

The Joker growled his pleasure as he grinned. "You see: Batman rules this city with fear. Well, what if _we_ flip the tables on him?"

"How?" Scarecrow questioned impatiently.

Joker shook a gloved finger at him. "We give people something to fear more than Batman. Who's gonna care about a little bat in their belfry when they have the two of us calling the shots?"

Scarecrow shook his head. "They didn't do what you said last time you tried to run the city. What makes you think they'll change their minds now?"

"Because they won't have a choice!" Joker yelled, then settled back into his quivering voice. "We infect them with fear. A little at a time. Untraceable. In their medicine, in their food, in their… beauty products! We make the people of Gotham so paranoid, that they turn on each other. Total chaosss."

"So we put small doses of the toxin I use in everyday products. Just enough to get everyone on edge. Then their strings will be a little more pliant to our fingers." Scarecrow elaborated.

Joker nodded slowly. "And Batmannn might show us a few chinks in his armor."

Scarecrow took a breath. "We'll have to play some of this by ear, then."

"No one reads people better than you, doc." The Joker acknowledged, adjusting in his chair. "We'll keep a close eye on Batty but the rest is simple, unadulterated destruction of the so-called 'public order.'"

"Which is your area of expertise." The smile was detectable in Scarecrow's voice.

The Joker flashed him a malicious grin. "Ex-act-ly-_ah_! And you will be behind the scenes, slowly infecting Gotham with an epidemic of fear."

"Well, since I really have nothing better to do," The Scarecrow said amused, lacing his fingers together. "I'm in."

"Your cooperation thrills me." Joker replied in a way that it was hard to tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He got up abruptly, shoving me to my feet and yanking me to his side, his hand clamped onto my elbow. "See ya next Tuesday."

Just as he whirled around to leave with me in tow, Scarecrow spoke up. "What exactly should I be doing until then?"

"Doing research, Doctor." The Joker shook his head, smiling broadly. "Lots and lots of research."

At the top of the stairs, the Joker suddenly stopped in his tracks and made a beeline back to the table. "By the way; I almost forgot to mention." He remained standing, resting a hand on the table top. "Harley will probably stop by in a few minutes."

"Harley?" Scarecrow questioned, his patience seeming to wear slightly thin.

"Oh, that's right. You don't know her yet. Oops. Might not be the best first impression but it's too late now." The Joker paused in his ramblings to giggle. "I picked her up at Arkham Asylum. Her name was ah…." He snapped his fingers a couple of times to try and summon the name he was searching for.

"Harleen Quinzel?" Scarecrow supplied in disbelief.

"That's the one!" The Joker exclaimed. "She goes by Har- …well I'll just let her tell ya. She'll probably ask what I was up to and it's okay to tell her. She's hopelessly devoted to me. I had sent her on a little scavenger hunt to meet me here but she isn't really used to my games yet. Pity. I was hoping for a big bang finish tonight. Anyway, I gotta make myself scarce."

Before I knew it, all the Joker's men had filed into the van and I was being pushed in followed by the Joker. The ride back to North 50th was just as much a blur and soon I was standing in front of my window once more, the Joker looking down at me with a gleam in his onyx eyes.

"Have fun tonight, sweet cheeks?" He asked, his voice husky and intimate. He was so close that I could feel the warmth radiating from his firm chest.

I looked up at him, my thoughts hazy. I pretended it was the after effects of the shot back at the club. "It was exciting." I managed to say truthfully.

"It was!" Joker giggled and kissed my forehead roughly, making me sway on my feet slightly. "Awww you're all tuckered out…" His eyes grew intense and I felt his hand slide onto my hip, his thumb making little circles on my hip bone.

I squirmed slightly in discomfort, but the Joker grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me even closer to him murmuring, "No, no, no, no. Come here. Come here."

Whimpering I whispered, "What are you gonna do?"

"Second date. We might as well go second base." He replied, tracing around my ear before trailing a finger over my collar bone and the slope of my bosom. I gasped as he cupped one breast and nuzzled my temple, taking in my scent.

He growled softly in my ear. "You're trembling. Are you scared or do you like it?" He tested his question by squeezing my boob lightly.

Taking a surprised breath and biting my lip, I clung even tighter to the Joker's coat, just realizing that I had a death grip on him. His soft moan joined mine as we savored the moment.

Not sure of exactly what I was doing, I slowly released his coat and slid my hands under it to spread up and over his abs, chest, and then waist. A deep rumbling noise reverberated through him and I couldn't help but tilt my head and gently nuzzle his neck, kissing it once… twice… a third time, leaning in to him as I rose up on my toes.

Joker went stock still and I wondered for a moment if he decided he didn't like my attentions. I lowered myself back onto my heels and looked at his chest, feeling utterly ridiculous. It was then I heard his ragged breath. As I stood there, his breathing slowed to a more lethargic pant and he began toying with my hip bone again.

"I noticed, when you were changing," He interrupted the silence in a hoarse voice. "some new cuts on you here." He rubbed my hip more roughly to identify where he meant. "I thought you were afraid of pai_n_."

I licked my lips and gulped. "You've helped me not be so scared." I answered, dragging a finger along the scratch he had given me.

He grinned. "It's funny how many people would get a kick out of me helping someone."

I was disturbed by that. I had been putting too much stock in what the Joker had been saying to me and doing for me. He was a psychopath. I watched him kill someone and was there as he plotted with another notorious criminal to destroy Gotham. Why was I growing more attached to him? Maybe it was because I had been so compliant with his wishes to avoid harm. I decided that I should start fighting him. But not tonight. Tonight I was too weak and exhausted.

"Why the long face?" Joker asked, nudging my chin up with a knuckle.

I gave him a half-hearted smile. "Sorry. I'm tired I guess…"

He tilted his head and gave my hip one last lingering stroke before dropping his hands and stepping back slightly. "You're right. It's way past bed time for _little girls_."

Sliding the duffle bag with my pj's in it over my shoulder, he claimed my lips for a deep, urgent kiss that had me throbbing all over as he vanished down the alley way.


	6. Chapter 6

"What's the big idea? I'm the doctor. What are you doing with the syringe?" A ditsy voice split through the steady thrum of the night club.

"That must be our unwanted guest." Scarecrow informed the men at his side. The nasally protests continued to grate above the noise as the burly door guard denied her entrance. With a groan that suggested a grimace beneath his mask, Scarecrow waved an agitated hand at the door. "Bring her here before she causes a scene. She's ruining the atmosphere."

Much to the Scarecrow's disdain, Harleen proceeded to protest the entire way to his table. "Okay, I'm here. Get your paws off me!" She snapped, shaking one of the brutish men's hands off her shoulder.

"Harleen Quinzel." Scarecrow marveled, leaning back in his chair.

Harleen tossed her head, a tassel on her hat bobbing, and replied flippantly, "Doctor Crane. Arkham Asylum sure does wonders for the psyche don't it?"

"Or _psychos_." He amended her sentiment. "Oh the irony when you get put into a straight jacket yourself."

"Look who's talkin'" Harleen sniffed. "In case you hadn't noticed, we're two of a kind."

Scarecrow crossed his arms. "Perhaps. Anyway, I don't mean to pick a fight. I believe we're on the same side now."

Harleen perked up at that. "So Mista J was in? Is he still here?"

"He left about half an hour ago." At this Harleen pouted and stomped her foot which Scarecrow ignored and went on in amusement. "What sort of scavenger hunt was he talking about?"

"I told him that I understood how he thinks so he set up a game of clues for me to follow. I guess I was a little slow but figuring 'em out is proof that I do know how he thinks." She boasted before frowning. "I was hoping he'd be here to tell me how proud he was."

A thought occurred to Scarecrow then and he asked slyly, "So, I assume your new persona has something to do with the Joker. He said you went by a new name?"

"I'm Harley Quinn now." She chirped. "Catchy, ain't it? Puddin' was impressed by me when we first met."

_Puddin'? _Oh, Scarecrow knew what was going on here. This must have been what the Joker meant by 'a big bang finish.' Well, it really wasn't any of his business who the Joker fraternized with or cheated on, but the Scarecrow was never one to pass up a chance to scare anyone. Especially since the Joker seemed to want this to come out at some point. He hoped his new ally wouldn't be too upset to not be able to see the look of surprise on Harley's face.

"I'm sure he was. You do seem a lot more his speed than the girl he brought by tonight." He wasn't disappointed by her reaction. Harley's features contorted with rage.

"Your jokes ain't funny, Scarecrow." She ground out through her teeth.

"So I've been told." Scarecrow said lightly, intrigued by the similarity between the two clowns. "But I'm afraid I'm not joking."

Harley Quinn shook with the force of her anger, opened and closed her mouth several times, only little squeaks coming out. Abruptly, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the club, Scarecrow grinning beneath his mask after her.

Things were more tense at home. We were each of us keeping secrets. My father keeping his connection to the mob a secret and I keeping the Joker a secret. We stayed in our separate rooms thinking separate thoughts.

At about one o'clock I couldn't take it anymore. I knocked on my dad's bedroom door and let him know I was going for a walk. He told me to be careful, in that infuriating way that made me have to still love him even though he had totally shattered my every illusion of him.

As I wandered around, I found myself on North 50th. Once I realized where I was I gritted my teeth and stomped away closer to home. This new fascination I had developed for the Joker was driving me crazy. I had come to admire his lack of respect for anything. His total abandon and contentedness in strife. If only I could dismiss my problems and care less if my plans turned out or failed.

I shook my head in agitation. This train of thought was dangerous. The Joker killed people. He left suffering in his wake.

But how was that any different from what was going on with me? Pain had been a constant for me ever since my mom passed away. I had experienced no reprieve. Was peace only possible for the ignorant? Wouldn't it be better to lose my mind and be okay with whatever transpired?

Still, to give up; to become the opposite of what I had esteemed to be my entire life? I wasn't sure I could do that.

A sudden voice jolted me out of my thoughts. "You're out a little early. I was beginning to wonder if you were nocturnal. So many of my friends are."

I froze and slowly turned my head to find the Joker. It was difficult to recognize him since he didn't have his makeup on. In place of his usual get-up he wore only his strange octagon button up, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his green diamond suspenders, and dark purple dress pants. But there was no mistaking his voice.

I didn't answer and instead turned in the opposite direction. I could make my way around the block to get home.

"Giving me the cold shoulder, huh?" The Joker jogged in front of me and turned around so that he was walking backwards. "You know I only get more interested if you play hard to get." He laughed at my annoyed expression as I turned on my heel and headed in my previous direction.

I heard the Joker pick up the pace once more and felt his arm like a steel band around my midsection. "Ya see, I'm having a little trouble following. Last night you seemed to enjoy yourself. One of us has things mixed up here and though we're both pretty bad about keeping our heads straight, let's face it… you're obviously a lot worse. So what exactly changed your mind? Did-did you _think _about it? You know things work a lot easier if you _don't_ think about them."

I tried to push his arm away as I struggled against him. "Let me go!"

"Only if you promise not to run away." He grunted, maintaining his grip on me despite my efforts.

I tried frantically to get away, pushing and squirming with all my might. My breath grew panicked as the feeling of entrapment tightened my chest. At this point he had both arms wrapped around me, one of which kept my own arms uselessly pinned to my sides. As he dragged me slowly towards an alley, I dug my heels in and writhed desperately. Tears of frustration streamed down my face as I whispered for help hoarsely. I refused to scream. I didn't want anyone to find out about the time I had spent with the Joker. I'd have to tell them everything. About how I had been sneaking out at night, how two men were killed on my account, and how I had willingly gone with him to another infamous criminal's hangout. They would wonder why the Joker trusted me so much. They'd have me psychologically evaluated. In my minds eye I saw them strapping me up with a straight jacket and shoving me into a cell in Arkham Asylum.

I sagged against the Joker, becoming dead weight. It was all I was good for. It was useless to fight and I didn't want to follow him. It was all being decided for me. I had no choice but to be carried along.

Vaguely I registered that the Joker had dropped me bodily onto the cold hard ground. I lay there on my side, sobbing amongst the filth coating the cement. The Joker pinned me down and put a knife casually to my throat.

Fear sent shivers down my rigid spine and ceased my tears. I blinked rapidly to clear my watery eyes and sniffed, wanting my senses keen. If these were my final moments I wanted to register them fully.

"You know, you've been pretty ungrateful." He tapped his knife against my neck for emphasis and I held my breath. "I saved your life twice and though I may have taken a few liberties…" He traced my scar with the tip of his knife. "I haven't killed you."

When I didn't answer or make any move to respond the Joker tilted his ear towards me and prompted, "We're on the same page, here, right?"

I nodded and licked my lips. "Y-yeah…" I choked out lamely.

He gave a satisfied smile. "So you know that you owe me, now. Right?"

I looked up into his face, searching for any sign of weakening or pity, but there was none. I nodded wordlessly. I knew I owed him. I was his possession. He could do whatever he wanted with me now and I wouldn't say anything to anyone because I was afraid.

"Well, I'd say that I deserve a little blood payment." As he pressed his face close to mine, he sliced his knife over my bottom lip, splitting it in the middle nearly to the chin. Only a portion of my agonized scream escaped my bleeding lips as the Joker slapped his hand over my mouth and pressed his knee into my chest, the air becoming stale in my lungs. When my muffled screams turned to gasps for air, the Joker finally removed his hand and placed it at my throat. I coughed painfully as oxygen filtered through my windpipe.

Before I could fully regain my breath, Joker pressed his open mouth to my lacerated lip, licking and sucking at the blood like a vampire. I moaned in ecstasy and misery, the pain sharp and stinging while the pleasure was sweet. With a vicious bite, he relinquished his claim on my mouth.

"Hmm… where next?" He mused, looking at my body as though it were some kind of feast. "Nowhere too obvious. Can't make it too hard for you to make an excuse."

I gulped, half hoping he would attack my breasts. Instead he yanked the sleeve of my shirt up and began working on my shoulder. It seemed he had a shape that he planned to carve into my flesh and I sobbed quietly, choking back my protests stubbornly.

My thoughts became confused. I wanted him to do this and I didn't want anyone to find out. Because this was sick. It wasn't something I wanted. It was torture. It hurt. But I liked it and I wanted the Joker's horrific art carved into me. I wanted to see what he was doing but I needed to look away.

Still, I gazed at his blood coated knife as it sawed at my flesh. It seemed the red liquid sprang willingly to the surface as though it had been waiting for freedom. My eyes blurred and I realized I had been sobbing.

At last the deed was done and the Joker dragged his tongue through the oozing pool of crimson. With fingers that trembled in eagerness, he gathered a good amount of my blood and forced it into my gaping mouth, smearing it on my tongue. The tangy substance mingled with my tears and I found myself sucking on the Joker's fingertips for every last drop. As I suckled, the Joker greedily consumed the rest of the blood on my shoulder. Keeping it on his tongue, he replaced his fingers with his mouth, letting me drink the blood from his lips.

I wasn't sure what I was doing, but I was filled with heady sensation. I needed this. This bloody intimacy with a man who controlled me. I was his possession and I wanted no more than to be possessed.

As we shared the blood laced kiss, I squirmed beneath him, feeling a burning need for him unlike any lust I had yet experienced. I reached for his head, to pull him closer but instead he pulled away sharply. I was shocked as he suddenly backhanded me. The blow sent my lip to bleeding again past the scab that had begun to form.

"Simon didn't say." The Joker reprimanded, his unsteady voice sending chills down my spine. "Now be a good girl and clean up before you go home. Daddy's got some errands to run."

He tossed me a cloth and I dabbed at the blood on my shoulder, licking my split lip until they stopped bleeding so fervently. As I straightened my stretched clothing, the Joker grabbed my wrist and squeezed it. "Aren't you gonna give me a kiss goodbye, sweet cheeks?"

Looking into the Joker's crazed and blood smeared face, I felt the hairs at my nape prickle. Savoring a shiver I leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the corner of his mouth, letting my tongue graze his scars lightly. "Bye." I sniffed, blinking back the tears that had been flowing constantly this whole time.

He patted my face as I had become used to and leered. "See ya again soon, doll face. Take good care of those scars."

With that he was gone and I was left alone in the garbage, feeling like a used whore. I wanted to go with him, but I also wanted him never to return. Despite my disdain of him, I could feel that I had crossed a line that I could not turn back from. I desired him.

I belonged to him. I saw it when I got home. Since my dad was still in his room, I was able to sneak to my own bathroom unobserved. There, in front of the mirror, I rubbed away all the crusted blood with a wash cloth and dabbed it lightly until I saw the message carved in my shoulder.

"Ha Ha Ha" In a chaotic arrangement. He was free to mark my flesh as his. There was something in me that let him own me and change me. The proof was here and on my lips which began to look more and more like his distorted maw.


End file.
